


I Feel Pretty

by twigglettz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daddy!Tormund, F/M, Fierce smol warriors, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7488381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twigglettz/pseuds/twigglettz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tormund's daughters weren't pretty. They weren't supposed to be</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel Pretty

Tormund's daughters weren't pretty. They weren't supposed to be. Their mother had been a warrior, had even kicked Tormund to the ground a few times, fierce and proud and unwavering. When they fucked, it felt like war. Tormund had never quite known if he'd make it out alive and the sheer thrill of it was enough to make him go back. He'd leave her tent in the morning victorious, battle wounded and exhausted. And if anyone asked about the bruises or blood stains, he'd bark out a laugh and tell them he'd fought a bear. It wasn't a lie, not really. 

When Yrsa was born, Tormund knew she would grow up to be like her mother. She had the same raven hair, same brown eyes. His heart had swelled at the thought, pride threatening to suffocate him, and he had to force himself to stay standing when she was placed in his arms. Her lungs were strong, stronger than any of the other children born that year, and she had screamed the village down. She was a warrior through and through, battling with the crude toys Tormund had made her and throwing her food around. She could never sit still, and she hadn't learned to walk, she'd learned to charge, and Tormund had spent hours chasing after her. One of the elders had tried to braid her hair once when she was three, muttering something about appearances, but Yrsa had simply bitten her hand and ran off and Tormund had laughed so hard, he could barely breathe. When he finally caught up with her, he hoisted her up onto his shoulders and told her that he would teach her how to fight properly. Her little face had lit up and she squealed, kicking her legs in excitement and Tormund had grinned the whole way home. 

He was waiting outside the tent when Torwynn was born, and all he had heard was silence. He'd feared the worst, dreading having to tell Yrsa, and then the healer had told him to come in. The babe was fine, so was her mother, and Tormund had never felt relief like it before. When he'd cradled her in his arms, she had wrapped her tiny fingers round his thumb and refused to let go, grip stronger than most of the Southern men he'd fought, and he knew she'd rival her sister when they became women. He'd make little toys from branches when he was away from home, whittling them down into swords or axes, and Torwynn would play with them so much, they'd break. He was forever picking splinters out of her hands, but she'd giggle and tug at his beard, and afterwards, she'd chase after her sister like nothing had happened. 

They were both naturals with weapons. Yrsa preferred an axe whilst Torwynn chose a bow, and by the age of 6, they were both able to take down a deer. Yrsa had done so without him even asking, hurling her axe through the clearing and embedding it straight in its skull, and Tormund had been left speechless. Torwynn had put the arrow straight through the deer's heart from over 100 paces away, complaining that it wasn't really a challenge and raced him to the body. They'd listen so intensely when he taught them how to get up when they'd been knocked down, how to always watch their backs, and the importance of loyalty. He'd find Yrsa had already told Torwynn most of the advice he'd given her when she was Torwynn's age, so he'd come up with new tricks she could teach Yrsa in return. 

When their mother had been struck down by a crow, they had wanted to join him in avenging her. Tormund had explained that they were too young to scale the wall, too small to take on men in combat, and both had yelled and screamed until he was already half way to Castle Black. When he'd been captured, all he could think about was his daughters. He was sure he'd missed Yrsa's tenth nameday, hoped he hadn't missed Torwynn's seventh as well, and prayed to any and all gods to just keep them safe. So when Lord Snow had given him the opportunity to save them, he had grabbed it with both hands. 

After he'd convinced as many of his people to leave as he could, he went out in search of them. It hadn't taken long before he heard a familiar squeal and only had a split second to react before Yrsa was flinging herself at him, dropping her little axe in the snow. He caught her, hauling her up, kissing the top of her head as she laughed. Torwynn wasn't far behind, and he scooped her up in his spare arm as well, hugging them both tight to his body. He closed his eyes for a minute, breathing in the moment, before he begrudgingly set them back down. Yrsa had cut her hair whilst he'd been gone, the short strands blowing in all directions from the wind. Tormund thought it suited her, made her look even more feral. Torwynn had braided hers away from her face, most likely to stop it from tangling in her bow, and apart from the blonde hair, she looked the spitting image of her mother

He made sure they were the first to get on a boat, but they'd both bitterly complained, claiming he needed strong people like them to keep the calm. He'd finally relented, telling them that they could help the sick and the old first before going. Both of them had squared their shoulders, silently taking on the challenge, and Tormund couldn't have been prouder. It wasn't long after that that the white walkers had broken through the gate, crashing over his people like a wave and swallowing them whole. Most had run, fleeing to the water and clambering in the boats, but his daughters had stood their ground, trying to get the children away first. Yrsa had forced Torwynn to go with them, and she had kept firing arrows for as long as she could, trying to keep the white walkers at bay. Tormund had retreated with the crows and Wun Wun when the walls had collapsed, his remaining brothers either dead or dying, running towards the last boat left at the dock. He could hear Yrsa yelling at him to hurry up, and when they had gotten close enough to board, she flung her axe behind them to stop a walker in its tracks. When the boat started to pull away, she told him Torwynn was safe, she'd gotten her out, and Tormund had pulled her into his chest, so relieved he could weep. He promised himself that he would never let them go again.

His daughters might not have been pretty, but they were strong and loyal and brave, and Tormund wouldn't have wished it any other way.


End file.
